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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28126836">Amid the Winter’s Snow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arveldis/pseuds/Arveldis'>Arveldis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Turn (TV 2014)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Compliant, Don't copy to another site, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, New title same fic, Season/Series 02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:47:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,535</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28126836</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arveldis/pseuds/Arveldis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of canon and modern AU holiday Annlett oneshots for the 12 Days of Turn event on Tumblr.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Edmund Hewlett/Anna Strong</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>12 Days of Turn 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. With Thankful Heart and Joyful Mind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Richard and Mary host the Feast of the Epiphany in celebration of Edmund’s escape from captivity and Abe’s imminent return from prison. Anna accompanies Edmund to the feast. For Day 4—Festival.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Takes place after Edmund’s return from captivity in 2.08. There is a <em>touch</em> of angst regarding that, but not too much. The chapter title comes from a line in the “Wexford Carol.”</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In just the few short days since Edmund’s miraculous escape from the Patriot camp and return to Setauket, Richard and Mary had exhausted all their efforts on preparing for the feast of Epiphany. Prior to Edmund’s unexpected arrival on Setauket’s shore, there had been no plans for a grand Epiphany feast and celebration at Whitehall as there had been in years past, only a small family meal (so Anna had heard from the town gossip as she worked at the tavern). The gloom of the Major’s and Abe’s respective imprisonments and unknown fates had cast a grey pall on the usual seasonal cheer and dampened Richard’s eagerness to host a social event. But Edmund’s escape and the promise of Abe’s imminent release and return had thrown Whitehall into a frenzy, and holiday cheer was restored.</p><p>There had been too little time between Edmund’s arrival and the feast of Epiphany to arrange for the same extravagance and extensive guest list as in previous years, but Mary had been determined to host some of the soldiers of the garrison, who had no families to spend the holiday with. Richard invited only a couple of Setauket’s most prominent families and his closest acquaintances. By Whitehall standards, it was a small affair. Yet no expense had been spared, for celebration had a new significance this year, and the Woodhulls were determined to not let the opportunity to demonstrate their gratitude and relief pass by.</p><p>All day, servants had been running pell-mell about Whitehall, weaving berry-encrusted garlands through banisters, arranging boughs of fragrant greenery above hearths, carrying out furniture from the front rooms into little-used back rooms in order to accommodate more guests, dusting and sweeping every corner and crevice, and preparing platter after platter of dinner courses in the kitchen. It was a festive uproar, and nary a room had escaped its touch, except the major’s, where he had lain in bed for much of the day. Anna had tended to him until a few hours before the feast began in order to keep out of the way of the commotion downstairs.</p><p>Now, however, Edmund had recouped his energy enough to clean up and dress in his uniform. Anna stood waiting for him in the hallway, dressed in a gown of the same evergreen hue as the garlands twining about the staircase’s railings. She brushed her hair back absentmindedly, though she had already checked her appearance in the mirror in her room, and peered over the railing to where the guests had begun to filter in and congregate below. The soldiers from the garrison had already arrived, and the room was beginning to fill with a raucous laughter, though, Anna suspected, it was more subdued than it would normally be on account of Mary’s presence. The light notes of the harpsichord drifted up to where she stood, their delicate strains dancing in and out of the bursts of laughter.</p><p>The creak of Edmund’s door opening drew her attention away from the guests below, and she turned to greet him, smiling as he approached and taking in his appearance. “You look well, Major.”</p><p>A bright smile flooded his face, and his breath caught in a light laugh of surprise and delight. “As do you, madam.”</p><p>Anna smiled in response as she ran her hand down her bodice and skirt, before gesturing to the party below. “Shall we?”</p><p>He nodded, extending his right arm to her, and she threaded her arm through his as he took an unsteady step toward the top of the staircase.</p><p>“And do you feel well?” she asked, as she placed her hand on his shoulder to provide the balance that his maimed foot could not as they descended the stairs.</p><p>“Not nearly half as well as I would like,” he said with a sigh. “But I am grateful that I am even here. I did not think to experience anything like this again, nor any of the comforts of home and hearth.”</p><p>Anna’s forehead creased. His words were a reminder of thoughts and days she didn’t like to dwell on. “No one would think ill of you if you retired early,” she said, glancing at his face. “They all know that you have endured much.”</p><p>A shadow fell over his face and he remained silent, caught up in memories that Anna could only guess at the horror of from what he had shared with her about his captivity; and even that much, she sensed, was no doubt highly sanitized. She scanned his face and noted the distant look in his eyes and the pinch of his brows. Letting the conversation ebb, she looked away to give him privacy with his thoughts and focused on discreetly helping him the rest of the way down the stairs. She withdrew her hand from his shoulder when they came in full sight of the soldiers and guests but kept her arm wrapped through his to support him as they made their way through the small crowd.</p><p>Edmund nodded at his men as he walked through them. He stopped one of the servants and took two glasses of Madeira for Anna and himself before continuing their round of the room. He paused at the harpsichord, where Appleton was playing a bright melody, and two soldiers were leaning against the instrument, already looking to be well into their cups, if their exaggerated gestures and boisterous voices were any indication.</p><p>“Excellent, Appleton, excellent!” Edmund declared.</p><p>Appleton glanced up from the keyboard and quickly moved to offer Edmund his seat. “Major! Would you like to play?”</p><p>“Ah, no. I won’t be playing this year, I am afraid. But you are doing a fine job, Appleton. Might I request some Handel next?”</p><p>“Certainly, sir.” Appleton arranged the sheets of music on the stand and drew forth one from the back. He struck up a new tune, and Edmund smiled in appreciation, nodding satisfactorily.</p><p>He turned to look at Anna. “Perhaps we might sit now?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>He steered her to the dining room, where the servants were already beginning to nestle heaping platters of steaming food among the candlesticks and dinner settings. The light from the candelabra hanging from the ceiling cast a soft glow over the table and illuminated the elaborate arrangement of the different platters’ meats and fruits.</p><p>Richard swept into the room behind them, with Mary following close behind, giving orders to the gaggle of servants that hovered around her.</p><p>“Ah! Good evening, Major,” Richard exclaimed. “I didn’t see you earlier. Mary had me occupied with decisions about the order of the courses. I am glad to see that you are well enough to join us,” he said, clapping Edmund on the shoulder. He nodded, tight-lipped, in Anna’s direction before moving to the opposite end of the table to take his seat.</p><p>Edmund withdrew his arm from Anna’s and pulled out the chair to the right of his at the head. “Please, sit here.”</p><p>She did, and he assumed his place at the head of the table as the rest of the guests filtered into the room and took their own seats, filling the room with a hubbub of overlapping and competing voices.</p><p>The ringing chime of Richard tapping his wine glass with his spoon quickly quieted the chatter, and he stood to speak with a scrape of his chair against the wood floor. “Thank you. I would first like to express Mary’s and my gratitude that you all have gathered here with us tonight, and have done so on such short notice. But what I would most like to express my gratitude for tonight is the divine fortune that has brought the good major home to Setauket,” he nodded at Edmund, who returned the gesture, “and has ensured that my son will soon follow and return home to his family.”</p><p>“Hear, hear!” Someone shouted, and the room filled with applause and cheers.</p><p>“Mary and I and little Thomas have lived through very dark days this past month,” Richard continued, “and we were not certain that hope would ever be restored, though we prayed it might be. But we now see that hope is often revealed when the world seems most dark, just as it was during the first Epiphany.” He paused and looked around the table, serious and sober. Then he held his glass aloft, and his jowled face broke into a smile. “But enough speech making! Let us celebrate and eat!”</p><p>Cheers arose again, mixed with good-natured laughter. Course after course was trundled out, and the feast passed in merriment and spirited conversation. Throughout it all, Edmund was alight with more joy than Anna had seen in him since his return, and she watched him happily.</p><p>When the feast was over and the dishes were being cleared, Anna accompanied Edmund to the sitting room, where several chairs had been left in front of the fireplace. There was no dancing this year, out of respect for Abraham’s absence and Edmund’s impaired condition, so guests clustered about the room in clumps, talking amongst themselves and leaving Edmund and Anna alone.</p><p>Anna settled Edmund in his chair before sitting herself. The fire warmed her side and popped merrily in the hearth, washing the area around them in a pleasant glow of warmth and light.</p><p>“How do you feel now?” she asked him after several minutes of comfortable silence.</p><p>Edmund reclined his head against the back of the chair and sighed. “I feel spent, but content.” He looked at her sidelong. “The pain is worse in the evening, in truth. But I have hardly noticed it in the excitement of tonight. Now, though, it is worsening.”</p><p>The light of the fire and the candles arranged on the mantle illuminated the right side of his face, where a bruise still bloomed in a reddish-purple stain on his cheekbone, and traces of it lingered around his eye. Anna watched the flickering light of the dancing flames play upon it.</p><p>“It <em>is</em> growing late, Edmund.”</p><p>He glanced at her and nodded. “I think it is time to concede and admit defeat.” He swirled his glass of Madeira he had brought with him from the table and drank the last few drops before gripping the arms of his chair and standing somewhat unsteadily. Anna rushed to take his arm and restore his balance, tucking her arm through his once again.</p><p>He bade his goodbyes to his men and to Richard and Mary before he and Anna began the labor of tackling the staircase. He grasped the railing with one hand, and Anna supported his right side.</p><p>“Whitehall has an infernal number of stairs,” he huffed, as they were partway up.</p><p>Anna laughed. “Are you certain the Madeira is not hindering you as well?”</p><p>“It helped numb the pain until now,” he said, giving her a rather affronted sidelong glance.</p><p>Eyebrows raising, Anna pressed her lips together and hummed. “Of course,” she said, biting back a smile. She helped him up the final stair, and he heaved a sigh of relief once firmly upon the landing. It was a touch more dramatic than the achievement called for, Anna thought.</p><p>He paused and turned to look at her fully. A smile spread slowly across his face, warm and unguarded, and his eyes creased in happiness. “Thank you, Anna,” he said softly. “I truly appreciated your presence at my side tonight.”</p><p>Anna’s mouth parted slightly in surprise at his sincerity, but she smiled gently. “As did I.” She touched his shoulder lightly and nodded toward his bedroom door. “But you must rest now if you wish to heal.”</p><p>He followed her gaze to the door. “Yes, of course.” His face split into another beaming smile that he weakly struggled to contain. “Ah—good night, Anna.” He nodded as if to bade her leave, hesitated and flashed another nervous smile, and then abruptly turned on the heel of his good foot toward his room.</p><p>Anna bit her lip as she watched him walk away and smiled to herself. He <em>was</em> rather inebriated.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Tradition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anna corners Edmund under the mistletoe. For Day 6 — Mistletoe.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Modern AU this time!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Tonight was lovely, Edmund.” Anna smiled at him as she wrapped her arm through his.</p><p>Edmund’s eyes crinkled fondly and his cheeks tugged upward happily. “I’m glad to hear that. I quite enjoyed myself as well.”</p><p>Anna kept her arm looped through his, grateful for his warmth, as they made their way down the snow-dusted residential streets that crisscrossed outward from the center of the city. It was bitterly cold – and she probably should have called a cab rather than ask him to walk her home before then walking to his flat (as he so charmingly called it) two blocks away – but there was a certain small-town nostalgia to walking the snowy streets at night, if one forgot the looming office buildings only several short blocks away. Here, though, the trunks and naked branches of the trees lining the sidewalks were wrapped with strings of warm white lights, forming glowing rows of trees on each side of the street. Interspersed between the trees, the light posts were hung with wreaths, each trimmed with red ribbon and lightly powdered from the most recent snowfall.</p><p>Anna tore her gaze from the wintery scene and looked over at him. “You know, I did hear that the city orchestra would be hosting a Christmas concert next Saturday, and I thought it sounded like something you would be interested in. My friend Abigail is a part of the orchestra and could get us tickets for good seats, if you’d like.”</p><p>His head tilted in surprise, but a pleased smile slipped over his face. “I’d like that. I confess, it’s been some time since I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying the arts live.”</p><p>Anna beamed. “I’ll tell her to save two tickets, then. It’s her first performance, and I wanted to be there to support her but didn’t want to go alone.”</p><p>“Well, I’ll be delighted to go with you.” He glanced at her for a moment, his gaze warm, but quickly averted his eyes back to the sidewalk ahead of them.</p><p>They rounded the corner to Anna’s house, where her small brick bungalow sat aglow with the lights she had strung along the eaves and wrapped around the railings and posts of the porch. She smiled to herself at the sight. It was more difficult to hang the lights each year without Selah, but she was proud of her work.</p><p>“Here we are,” she said.</p><p>He walked her up to her porch and waited quietly as she unlocked the front door. She glanced up as she pocketed her keys and bit back a smile before she turned around to face him again.</p><p>“Thank you for tonight, Edmund, and for braving the cold to walk with me.”</p><p>He nodded and rubbed his hand on his wrist, looking as nervous as he had been when he first picked her up from her house earlier in the evening. Although Anna found his awkwardness endearing, she had been relieved to see it fade over the course of the night, if only because it meant he was becoming more comfortable and wasn’t second-guessing every thought that came into his head. Now, though, it seemed the awkwardness was back.</p><p>“I will, um, see you on Saturday,” he said, pausing and nodding. “Um, good night, Anna.” He smiled, lopsided and self-conscious, and started to turn to leave.</p><p>“Ah—” She caught him by the lapels of his wool coat and gently tugged him toward her. “Look up.”</p><p>He blinked at their proximity but tilted his chin up obediently, stuttering as he caught sight of the innocuous ball of faux mistletoe hanging from the inside trim of the doorway. His mouth opened helplessly as he looked back at her, but no words came out. It closed and opened again.</p><p>“I—You want to—” He left the sentence dangling and settled for pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, which Anna had early on spotted as one of his nervous tics.</p><p>“It is tradition, you know. Even you Brits must know what mistletoe means,” she teased, her eyes dancing.</p><p>“Yes, I’m well-acquainted with what it means, but, um…. Well, it’s not a tradition I adhere to, per se. Or, rather, haven’t had much reason to, I suppose, but—” He snapped his mouth closed, putting an end to his rambling. Anna couldn’t definitively identify all of the expressions his face had contorted into as he had rambled, but the process was certainly a feat of facial movement, she thought.</p><p>“But?” she prompted as she stepped closer.</p><p>His hand began to travel toward his glasses again, but she stilled it by placing her hand on his shoulder. His breath caught, and his gaze flickered down to her mouth before darting back up to her eyes.</p><p>“I, ah, would be willing to chan—”</p><p>Anna didn’t let him finish. She closed the distance between them before he could react and caught his jaw with her free hand, angling his face toward her so that their noses wouldn’t bump in his frozen shock, and met his stunned lips softly. Sliding her other hand down his shoulder, she let it rest on his chest, where his heart thumped erratically beneath her palm. She smiled against his lips and felt his arms hesitantly wrap around her, his hands coming to rest on her upper back and arm. He shifted closer and responded fully now, tilting his head in a better angle and pressing gently against her mouth.</p><p>
  <em>Well, for all his awkwardness, let it never be said that Edmund Hewlett couldn’t kiss.</em>
</p><p>They broke apart and he drew back from her, speechless and his eyes full of something that she could only identify as wonder. She cradled his face in her hands, tracing his jawbone with her thumbs.</p><p>“Well, now you are <em>truly </em>acquainted with the tradition,” she said, grinning and slightly breathless.</p><p>A bashful grin stretched over his face, and he bowed his head and chuckled. “Yes, I suppose so.” His eyes roved her face with affection, and a corner of his mouth twitched up. “Am I to assume you hung this just for me,” he nodded toward the door frame, “or do you draw all hapless, unsuspecting men to your door in such a fash—”  </p><p>She reached up and kissed the corner of his mouth, silencing him. As she pulled away, she saw his eyelids flutter shut, and they remained closed for a brief moment. She rubbed her thumb over the edge of his mouth where hers had just been. “Just you, Edmund.”</p><p>“Ah.” Evidently his brief moment of eloquence had abandoned him.</p><p>She placed her forehead against his. “I didn’t think you were ever going to kiss me,” she said, as she opened her eyes to look into his, her mouth twisting into an impish grin.</p><p>He pulled his face away and laughed, looking down in embarrassment. “So you resorted to subterfuge.” He tilted his chin up in mock offense and gazed down at her, amusement tugging at the edges of his mouth and deepening his smile lines.</p><p>“Well, I wouldn’t call it that,” she countered.</p><p>“Mm. What would you call it, then?” He held her gaze in his, and it seemed to Anna that the tables had suddenly been turned, and <em>she</em> was now the one at his mercy. She held his gaze for half a moment too long, she knew – and knew that he must too – but she wasn’t about to lose the high ground.</p><p>“Upholding tradition, of course.”</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Snow on Snow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anna shares a moment with Edmund as he convalesces after his return.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was originally meant to be at the beginning of “With Thankful Heart and Joyful Mind” (the first oneshot in this collection), but I felt it caused too lengthy of a lead-in to the actual feast. Here it is revised and repurposed for the “snow” prompt. It still fits as a sort of prologue, though, if you would like to read it that way. We are, of course, back in canon (after Edmund’s return) for this oneshot. </p><p>This one isn’t quite as fluffy as the others because my inner angst writer can only be denied for so long. There is happiness and snow in this one eventually, I promise!</p><p>The chapter title comes from a line in "In the Bleak Midwinter."</p><p>**There is a brief mention of when Simcoe strangled Anna.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Whitehall was bustling with servants preparing for the night’s feast, and the din from the commotion downstairs carried up the stairwell and filtered through the slightly-ajar door of the major’s room. It was still a haven from the cacophony of noise below, though, and for that Anna was grateful. The silent whisper of snowfall outside the windows seemed to lend the room even more of a peaceful stillness.</p><p>Anna had joined Edmund as he convalesced his room, both from a desire to be of use to someone while keeping out of the servants’ way and from a niggling need to be certain that he was truly faring well (or as well as a person in his present circumstances could). His condition, in her opinion, was not encouraging, though the doctor had promised her that his foot was healing admirably, after she had waylaid the man on his way out of the house after his morning visit.</p><p>Still, Anna built up the fire in the hearth to a crackling blaze and offered to fetch more quilts or tea – all too aware of his narrow brush with frostbite – though he looked to be fairly disappearing under the quilts already piled on top of him. She occupied herself with tidying up his room. There was not much to clean, as he had largely remained abed the past several days. She knew, though, from the times she had visited his room while he was captured, that it was in more disarray than he kept it when he was in better spirits and health.</p><p>“Anna, please sit.” Edmund watched her from half-lidded eyes as he sat propped up against several pillows. “You have been putting my room to order this past half hour. You needn’t exert yourself on my account. I hardly am in any state to care about whether my room is set to rights.” His eyes drifted closed as he spoke the last sentence, but he rolled his head on his pillow to look at her as she sat in the chair next to his bed.</p><p>She smoothed her skirts over her legs and rubbed at a small blot on the fabric as she spoke. “I suppose I just need something to do. I’m unused to not working at the tavern, and the commotion downstairs for the feast has made me feel even more out of place and as if I should be doing something. As if I should earn my keep, I suppose, like I did at the tavern.” She glanced up from the stain on her dress, hesitant to meet his gaze.</p><p>He was watching her face, more intent and alert than he had yet been since she had joined him in his room, and the corners of his eyes creased in concern. Somewhere beneath the quilts piled atop him, the sheets rustled as he shifted to look at her more fully.</p><p>When he spoke, his tone was sincere and decided, accentuated by the ever-present solemnity of his mouth that lent an air of finality to nearly everything he said. “You are a guest here, Anna. You are <em>my</em> guest here. You do not need to earn your keep.” He paused, letting the words settle between them for a moment. “Is that why you left Whitehall in my absence?”</p><p>Anna averted her gaze, shutting her eyes. Though she had expected this question – it was only reasonable, after all – and would have welcomed the relief of draining the long-festered wounds Richard had inflicted over the years, she did not want to create another front that Edmund had to fight, especially in his current condition.</p><p>“Anna.”</p><p>She met his eyes, settling her face into a neutral expression. “Richard requested that I leave Whitehall, shortly after you were captured. I acquiesced. I had overstayed my welcome long enough as it was.”</p><p>“What did he say to you?” There was an edge to his voice.</p><p>“It is not worth repeating, Edmund. Please, leave it be.”</p><p>His jaw tightened. “His actions are unacceptable. You were here so you would be safe from Simcoe, and Richard sent you back into the maw of the beast.” Edmund’s mouth flattened into a disapproving line as he drew in a sharp breath through his nose. “I will speak with him and express my…<em>displeasure</em> with his decisions.” His chest rose in a frustrated breath.</p><p>“No, Edmund, please.” Anna placed her hand over his to bring his attention back to her. “Let us let bygones be bygones. I’m here now, despite whatever Richard may feel on the matter.” She willed a smile forth and withdrew her hand from his.</p><p>Edmund’s eyes flicked to her face and he nodded briefly before he looked away, his mouth parting in hesitation. He turned back and fixed his gaze on her, his eyes searching her face. “Did Simcoe—did he…harm you in any way, Anna?”</p><p>Anna’s face froze, and she twisted her fingers taught against each other in her lap, wishing desperately she had something to occupy herself with so that she would not have to meet his gaze. “When I asked him to rescue you, he asked for a kiss and took it, but that is all. I did not refuse him, because I felt it necessary to ensure that he would try to rescue you.”</p><p>Memories of Simcoe’s hand clenching her neck, crushing her breaths, surfaced, but she stamped them down. Edmund could not know. He would only risk himself in trying to defend her and bring justice down upon Simcoe, and he was in no condition to meet whatever challenge or retribution Simcoe would surely mete out in response.</p><p>“Anna, you needn’t have capitulated to that…fiend. Please, don’t ever feel that you must accede to his demands on my account. Simcoe knows no honor and will stop at nothing to achieve his ends. I do not want him to take more from you than he already has.”</p><p>She nodded, silent.</p><p>Suddenly, a small shriek from outside burst through the walls. Anna frowned and walked to the window, pushing the drapes further aside to see the source of the noise.</p><p>Below, Thomas was frolicking in the snow, throwing up plumes of white powder that then fell like a second snowfall. He shrieked again, spinning in glee before he lost balance and fell into a small snowdrift. Mary scooped him up under the shoulders and set him upright, smiling and likely chiding him to be careful.</p><p>“It’s Thomas. He’s playing in the snow. Come, look,” she said, turning around to face him. “It will do you good to change position.” Anna moved back to the side of his bed, where he had maneuvered so that he now sat on the edge. She held onto his shoulders to help him balance as he stood and curled her hand around his arm as she walked with him to the window.</p><p>He chuckled at the sight of Thomas spinning and stumbling. “It brings me joy to see it. I am glad that some are still carefree and innocent, and that this war has not touched the smallest hearts. It would be a truly dark day were that to happen. But this gives me hope that perhaps this war will not take everything from us.”</p><p>A burning sensation pricked at the corners of Anna’s eyes, and she swallowed down the sudden flush of emotion. Her fingers pressed tighter around his arm. <em>Perhaps.</em></p><p>Snow began to drift down again, dusting the grounds of Whitehall in a white veil. It was as if a new world colored only in white was being born before her eyes, the old being remade into something inconceivably beautiful, familiar and yet tinged with a hope previously unimaginable. <em>Perhaps.</em></p>
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